There was a time when sleeping with my wife was fun. It was back when we weren’t married and didn’t live in the same place. Back when I could fart, snore, and throw my elbows around while sleeping without having to hear my wife complain because she was 15 miles away in her parents’ home. Although I’m probably a top-100 farter in Massachusetts, I swear to you I’m not that bad a snorer, relative to typical husbands. And yet, the witch next to me casts her spells if I make the slightest snore.
The following are her evil anti-snoring tactics…
Who shushes someone? I mean, really. Who uses the shush?! The shush is only acceptable for a child in the classroom, in a theater sitting next to the loud Black lady, or in bed with a loud Latina lady in your mother’s home. You don’t use the shush on a grown-ass man like me! But that’s what she does… I’m laying there, dreaming about that Latina, BARELY SNORING, and I wake up to “SHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Similar to the shush, the sigh-complaint combo interrupts my sleep as harmonically as a jackhammer. There I am, dreaming about high school soccer days. I’m about to score a goal in the playoffs. My Scottish coach is cheering me on and I’m about to strike the ball, and suddenly I hear my wife take a huge, loud, frustrated deep breath, and then she groans, “I can’t sleep!”
Oh, thanks for letting me know that YOU can’t sleep, honey! I forgot that we’re a UNIT, and if you can’t sleep, then I shouldn’t be allowed to sleep, either!
This usually happens after she’s stopped my snoring multiple times in one night. There are only so many times she can use the shush or sigh before it becomes useless. And if I’m wearing earplugs, then I won’t hear her anyway. So there I am, dreaming of writing that amazing novel, which got turned into an epic screenplay, which became nominated for Best Film, and as Steven Spielberg is about to announce the winner I feel two soft fingers squeezing my nostrils together and preventing me from breathing.
I wake up out of breath.
Oh, thanks wife, for letting me know what it feels like to DROWN for three seconds! Next time why not just handcuff me and stuff a pillow over my face. That will guarantee a good night’s sleep for both of us!
If I’m still snoring following the nose grab, my wife leaves me and goes to the second bedroom. But, as you could probably guess, she doesn’t do so silently.
“I’m sleeping in the other room,” she announces.
I should probably pretend to be upset about her leaving, just in case my wife is reading this right now. But honestly, it’s really awesome! I get the whole bed to myself, I can snore in peace, and I have uninterrupted sleep for the rest of the night!
The only sad part is that our dog follows her to the second bedroom.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is: The more you snore, the more likely you’ll get the bed to yourself.
Rel “BostonJew” Mathiowitz is a neurotic, panicky writer who details his pathetic life stories and frustrated points of view.
Rel is 6 foot 5; however, he makes himself appear to be 5 foot 5 because he wants women to lust for him for his personality, and not his grand stature.